


Pas de Deux

by InquiryFoxtrot



Series: Gbj JonElias Week [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, day 1: Dancing, gbj week, georgie and daisy and the admiral are mentioned for a like sentence but not enough to tag, its a soft one folks!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquiryFoxtrot/pseuds/InquiryFoxtrot
Summary: How he wants to move is a paradox. He wants to run into the cold, cloudy day and let the searing cold numb his skin. He wants to go home, curl under a blanket with nothing but fabric and a cat to comfort him. He wants to sit by Georgie and Daisy, let nothing but their pinkies touch and be content all the same. He wants to be able to bear the six inches that separate Elias from Jon.  He wants to stay, lean his shoulder against Elias and allow himself to get burned.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Gbj JonElias Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870744
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Pas de Deux

_ Relevé, Plié, Allégro _

“Front, center, side, center,” Elias says as Jon watches him pace between his rows of students. He pauses in front of one dancer, Jon thinks her name is Rosie, and crouches. “Sickled foot Rosaline. Point and turn out. You know better.” 

Rosie flushes at the criticism as the class’s eyes flash to her. Elias doesn’t spare a second glance. “Back, center. Moving to fifth position. Front -” 

The bar work continues as Jon tries to focus on his form in the mirror instead of Elias’s critical gaze. In all his fifteen years of dance he’s never wanted to impress a teacher as much as he wants to impress Elias. Although he’s not entirely sure why.

Maybe it’s because Elias demands perfection. He analyzes every move, every position until not a muscle is out of place. Maybe it’s because Elias is a good teacher. He demands perfection because he knows his students can achieve it. He wants them to grow to be the best they can be. Maybe it’s because Elias’s gaze sets Jon’s skin on fire. Elias’s eyes trace up and down Jon’s body, drinking in every inch of his pose, his muscles, his skin and Jon can feel the phantom heat where his gaze lingers. When Elias is satisfied he gives Jon a satisfied smile and a quiet, smooth “Good work, Jonathan”. 

Maybe it’s because Jon misses Elias’s hungry stare when it’s gone. 

_ Focus, Jon. _ He thinks to himself. He doesn’t. 

_ Pas de bourrée, Chassé, Grand Jeté _

Eventually the class moves to the floor. Elias stands in the opposite corner to them, holding his hand to his chin. He calls out the occasional correction: Straighten your leg Martin, raise your back leg higher Georgina, point your toes Timothy. 

As the line in front of him decreases Jon feels a swell of unwanted nerves rise within him. He feels like a child again, feeling the pressure of all those eyes on him as he dances, searching for any flaw to throw back at him. Except this time there is only one stare Jon anticipates and he knows he will not be ridiculed. So why is he so nervous?

Jon takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders, tries to shake it off. Sasha finishes her leap and lands on the other side of the studio. Jon begins his prep. 

He stands in a b-plus position, shoulders down, arms steady. Pas de bourrée, keeps his core still. Chassé chassé, his feet barely leave the ground. Leap, extends his legs, points his toes. He lands, not a hair out of place. 

“Good Jonathan,” Elias pipes up. “But a touch too much tension. Relax your arms next time.” 

It’s barely a correction but Jon’s face still burns. It’s silly of him to let Elias affect him this much. How he dances, how he acts. But he does. Jon remains hyper aware of Elias through the rest of the lesson. Feels every passing glance as an electric shock. Tracks his movements as the hour trickles by. When it's finally over he heaves a sigh of relief as Elias moves to address the class.

“Alright, I expect everyone to practice that combination and have it memorized by next week. Please reach out if you need help.” Elias calls to his students as they rush to their respective belongings. “And Jonathan! Please stay after class if you wouldn’t mind.” 

Jon groans. At this moment he wants nothing more than to escape Elias’s presence. He wants nothing more than to never leave it. He stays. He watches as students trickle out of the studio one by one. Georgie gives him a look on her way out, accompanied by knowing smirk. What she knows Jon hasn’t a clue. Georgie has a way of realizing things about Jon weeks, sometimes months, before Jon himself does. At this point he’s given up, resolved himself to the fact that he’ll find out eventually. But now those looks have been popping up whenever Jon mentions Elias, which worries him. 

This next hour could be so much easier if he knew what Georgie knew too.

_ Piqué, Sissonne, Sus-Sous _

“As you know, Jonathan, I don’t just teach,” Elias begins well after the studio is empty. He leans against the bar, arms crossed. A single strand of his soft black hair falls over his forehead. His tone is the same even professionalism Jon is used to seeing every week. But Elias seems nervous, which cannot bode well for Jon. “I dance professionally as well. And in a couple of months I will be performing in a festival at Salder’s Wells Theater.” 

A moment passes in silence. Then another. Elias looks at Jon like he wants him to speak. “Ah, well, congratulations Mr. Bouchard,” He says. 

“Please, call me Elias,” Elias interrupts. “But thank you. However, I plan to dance a duet at this festival and I am in need of a partner.” 

Elias pauses once more and looks between them. The tension in his body is undeniable. Suddenly it all clicks into place. The staring, the critiques, calling him to stay late. Jon’s eyes widen and he nods. “Oh! Alright, Elias, I’ll talk to Georgie this week, see how open she is to the idea. Of course, it would have been easier to talk to her yourself but I understand wanting a friend to open up the idea to Georgie first.” Jon pauses. Elias merely blinks at him, an expression bordering on disbelief flashes across his face. “What?”

“You -” Elias starts and stops, takes a breath. “You think I called you here to ask you to ask Georgina to dance with me?” 

“Well, Elias, yes,” Jon says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. “Why else would you call me here?”

And Elias, his overly professional, chronically aloof dance teacher, begins laughing. A full, hearty laugh that brings a wolfish grin across Elias’s face, eyes bright and full of mirth. Elias laughs a laugh that fuels a warmth in Jon’s chest. Jon decides to interpret the warmth as offense. 

“I don’t appreciate being laughed at, Mr. Bouchard, if you just called me here to tease me then I’ll happily take myself elsewhere,” Jon says, face red as a tomato, and starts to rise. 

“No, no, Jonathan I’m not laughing at you.” Elias reaches out to grab Jon’s wrist. “I didn’t ask you to stay because I want to dance with Georgina. I asked you here because I want to dance with  _ you _ .”

Jon freezes. “Me?”

“Yes, Jonathan, you. I’ve watched you for weeks now. The way you dance is - it’s hard to put into words - mesmerizing is an accurate term, as is captivating, beautiful, sensational.” Elias stands, the light grip on Jon’s wrist remains. “I believe we could be magnificent together.” 

Jon flushes. “I- I don’t know. I still have so much to improve, to fix-”

“Then let’s fix it now,” Elias interrupts. “Come.”

Jon splutters, but continues without resistance as Elias leads him to the center of the floor and has him face the mirror. 

“Fifth position, if you please,” Elias instructs in a low tone behind him. Jon breathes in, gets his body into position, breathes out, releases the tension from his muscles. Elias passes a scrutinizing gaze over him, before reaching out a hand towards Jon’s center. He stops millimeters above Jon’s skin. “Is this alright?” 

Jon nods. “Quite.” If he could blush further he would. 

Elias places a firm hand on Jon’s stomach and another on his back. “Chest out, core in,” He says softly. He whispers but his voice sounds deafening in Jon’s ear. He can feel Elias’s warm breath tickle the back of his neck. He moves the hand on Jon’s stomach to his shoulders. “Drop your shoulders, Jonathan. Relax, I won’t bite.” He chuckles. Jon swallows thickly and bites back a reply, choosing instead to just follow instructions. 

“Better?” He mutters instead.

Elias lets out a long breath and steps back. “Perfect.” He breathes and Jon is hit with the distinct feeling that Elias isn’t just talking about his pose. He gives Jon a smug smile. “So, will you?”

“I still don’t know-”

“Why don’t you think it over then and give me your answer over dinner,” Elias interrupts yet again. “Say, Friday? I’ll pick you up at eight.” 

“I- um, sure, I suppose,” Jon manages to stutter. “I’ll see you Friday, then. Um, goodbye.” Jon rushes to get his things together. He slings his bag over his shoulder but he can feel Elias staring at him as he ducks his still red face to his chest and scurries out the door. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when the harsh winter wind hits his face, cooling his burning cheeks. He gives the studio one last look before walking to his car and finds himself feeling a strange sense of longing. He tears his gaze away and brings his hand to his chest. 

A strange feeling indeed. But not an unpleasant one either. 

_ Battement, Développé, Assemblé _

Dinner passes on Friday without incident. Jon knew by Tuesday that he would agree to be Elias’s partner. His confidence in his abilities was still lacking, but, as much as Jon was loathe to admit, he longed to spend more time with the man. 

Elias was strange, sure, spoke like someone who had lived through the victorian era and never quite shook off the slang, and had an air of professionalism you’d sooner find in a CEO than in a dance teacher. But he was also captivating, he told slightly stilted jokes and laughed full and hearty when he was happy. Jon wants to find out all the other captivating details about Elias, the ones he only shows to those he trusts, to those he loves. 

And he suspects Elias wants to know more about him too. 

Jon catches a glimpse of this when he accepts the offer. He watches Elias’s face break into a wide grin, a sharp, pleasant smile that sends butterflies fluttering in Jon’s stomach, for just a second before settling back into the small, pleased smirk Jon is used to seeing. Jon swears then and there to make Elias smile like that again before they're done dancing together. 

They work out an easy schedule. They meet three times a week for a couple hours to practice. 

Elias sits him down and plays their accompaniment once, twice, five times. “Get familiar with the music, Jonathan, not just what it makes you feel but what it makes you want to do, how you want to move, how you want to be.” 

The music makes Jon feel . . . many things. He feels want, he feels longing, he feels desperation, he feels joy, he feels he feels he feels. 

The music makes Jon want to do many things. Things he’d never be allowed to do. Things he’d never allow himself to do. Things that if he was selfish enough, if he was lucky enough, he might just do anyway. 

How he wants to move is a paradox. He wants to run into the cold, cloudy day and let the searing cold numb his skin. He wants to go home, curl under a blanket with nothing but fabric and a cat to comfort him. He wants to sit by Georgie and Daisy, let nothing but their pinkies touch and be content all the same. He wants to be able to bear the six inches that separate Elias from Jon. He wants to stay, lean his shoulder against Elias and allow himself to get burned. 

Jon wants to be alive, he wants to be happy, he wants to be near Elias, he wants to be in love ~~with him~~. 

_ Allongé, Coupé, Soutenu _

The process is slow going at first. Not because the dance is particularly hard, in fact it’s relatively easy all things considered. Jon, no matter how much he doubts, is quite experienced. No, the problem is, despite Jon’s best effort, the two of them just aren’t in sync. 

Which isn’t ideal. It’s a love song for christ’s sake and for some reason, Jon can’t figure out to dance with Elias without looking like he hates the man. 

“You still have too much tension, is all,” Elias says after every rehearsal but even his reassurances have begun to sound empty. 

That is until a Monday afternoon, about a month into the process. Jon enters the studio to find Elias still in his normal clothes, cross legged on the floor, no dance bag in sight. 

“Come, dear, sit,” He pats the spot next to him. “No rehearsal today, we are just going to sit here and . . . talk.” 

Jon blinks at him. “Talk.”

“Yes, Jonathan, talk,” He huffs. “Obviously, our previous methods to work together weren’t working so I am taking a leap of faith. Break the ice, as it were.” 

“Break the ice,” Jon intones. He finds himself strangely unsurprised at the notion, and amused. 

“Yes, break the ice, get to know each other, ‘hang,’” He says in air quotes. “I realized the other day that despite working with each other for hours every week I do not know much about you, nor you much about me.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I suppose,” Jon responds slowly. “Unconventional, I must admit, but . . . efficient?” He tilts his head. 

Elias laughs. “Efficient, yes.” He looks at Jon and for once it isn’t the scrutinizing gaze of his teacher, or the hungry gaze of the man infatuated with his dancing, or even the gentle sarcasm of his exasperated partner. The look Elias gives Jon is soft. It is amused and adoring. It is a look filled with care. 

Jon hopes his eyes read the same. 

_ Promenade, Port de Bras, Frappe _

They do, in fact, manage to break the ice. Jon and Elias fall into an easy pattern. On Monday evenings they relax in the studio. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they dance, free dances, never their performance number. Sometimes they lay side by side on the soft vinyl floor and listen to music. Music to dance to, music to sing to, music to listen to. Mondays are quiet, and they are kind. 

It is on Mondays that Jon learns of Elias’s childhood. Learns that dance is the place Elias gets to feel. Learns that Elias is the only child of only children. Learns that Elias has few friends but the few he has he loves unconditionally. Learns that if Elias hadn’t become a dancer he would’ve gone into his father’s business. Learns that Elias would like to be close to Jon, if he’d let him.

On Wednesday evenings they leave the studio. The location changes often but a few repeat: a botanical garden that Elias loves, where the only sounds are of winds through a bush and the faint echoes of conversation; a quaint cafe that Jon likes to visit during Georgie’s shifts, where Jon introduces Elias to The Admiral and the room smells like coffee and pastries and his friends; the library that is a favorite of them both, where they can spend hours filtering through stories, showing each other their favorites, reading passages to each other. Wednesdays are vibrant, and they are full of life. 

It is on Wednesdays that Jon learns of Elias’s love of gardening. Learns that Elias prefers ambient noise over silence. Learns that Elias has never had a sweet tooth but has a soft spot for danish pastries. Learns that Elias was never a cat person but has made an exception for The Admiral, for Jon. Learns that Elias loves listening to Jon read to him. Learns that Elias loves learning about Jon most of all. 

On Friday evenings they dance. And finally, finally, they dance together. Jon can feel it, and he knows Elias can too, the way their movements begin to blend together. How it becomes hard to tell where Jon ends and Elias begins. How the routine makes Jon feel a thousand things at once. The fact that Elias’s touch has stopped making Jon burn and instead makes him feel safely, pleasantly warm. Afterwards they go out for dinner, no matter how rehearsal went they clean up and go out to celebrate. Fridays are enchanting, and they are intoxicating. 

It is on Fridays that Jon learns that Elias is beautiful. Learns that the world stops when Elias decides to dance, like the universe has paused to admire him. Learns that the way Elias’s eyes light up when he’s performing is indescribable. Learns that Elias can lift Jon with ease and make him feel like he’s flying. Learns that Elias would dress in black tie exclusively if he could. Learns that Elias looks striking in deep greens and that Elias can’t take his eyes off Jon when he wears blue. Learns that Elias has begun to feel synonymous with home. Learns that Elias makes him feel alive. Learns that all Jon wants to do is melt into Elias’s embrace. Learns that maybe, just maybe, Elias feels the same. 

They finish their dance Friday evening, just a few weeks before the performance. The music fades, leaving them breathless in their final pose, Elias’s sturdy grip around his waist, Jon pressed close, balancing on the divet in Elias’s waist to maintain the lift. 

When the music is gone completely Jon brings his hands around to Elias’s shoulders as Elias ever so gently lowers Jon back to the floor, hands still around Jon’s waist. 

“That was-” Jon begins, panting. 

“Breathtaking,” Elias finishes. “Our best yet if I may be so blunt.” The grip of Jon’s waist, relaxes but remains solid and warm. 

“Be blunt, Mr. Bouchard,” Jon teases. “After all, the way you dance is captivating.” Jon notices he hasn’t moved either. 

“Captiving?” Elias questions. “Have I captivated you, Mr. Sims?”

_ Yes. _

“You haven’t let go yet,” Jon replies instead, his face is warm, Elias is warm. Jon studies the sharp edges of Elias’s face, the dark intensity of his gaze. 

“Would you like me to let go?” Elias asks in turn. His eyes, in all their intensity, are soft. Jon wonders idly if the world has stopped turning, if the universe has paused to admire them. 

“No,” Jon surprises himself by replying. Not because of the sentiment, that he knows. But his courage to voice it. 

Elias searches Jon’s face, a tiny, barely noticeable smile on his lips. “Would it be alright if I kissed you, Jonathan?” He asks, hesitant, like it would be his greatest honor. 

A smile breaks on Jon’s face. “Yes, Elias, I think that would be alright.”

Kissing Elias is nothing like Jon expected. It is everything and more. Jon feels like electricity is crackling off his skin, he feels the fire in his chest expanding over his whole body, making him feel energized and alive. He feels as though he could get drunk off this kiss alone. 

Elias pulls away far too soon, his face flushed, a true smile on his face. Pleasant. Loving. Sharp. 

“I knew I’d get that smile back eventually,” Jon muses. 

“This one?” Elias says, smile widening. Jon nods. “Well, Jonathan, I have a feeling you’ll be seeing this smile much more often.”

Elias leans into him once more. Jon rises up to meet him and the rest of the world melts away. 

_ Pirouette, Fouetté, Pas de Deux _

**Author's Note:**

> It’s gbj jonelias week!! Hell yeah!! I’ve got many more fics coming this week so stay tuned folks it’s gonna be a fun time:))   
> Also I haven’t gone to a dance class in over 10 years so please be kind to me I had to google all the fancy dance terms


End file.
